I wipe a stray tear from my cheek just as I hear John enter the room.
“What are you doing?” he asks as he steps into the kitchen.
I turn and step back inside, closing the door behind me. I clear my throat, trying to erase the emotion stuck in my chest.
“Just thinking,” I say vaguely.
John retrieves a wine glass from the cabinet and pours himself a glass of wine from the open bottle on the counter.
“Oh, yeah? About what?” he asks as he walks over to me. I turn away to take in the view once more, avoiding his eyes.
“About how much I love this house,” I sigh. It’s as much truth as I can muster.
I feel him behind me as he wraps his free hand around my waist and kisses the side of my neck.
“What is it Gwen? You seem a million miles away. Come back to me.”
His words fill me with guilt as I feel my conscience slowly build a wall between us, one lie at a time. I can’t answer his question honestly, so I evade, changing the subject.
“Did you know Charley’s sleeping with Grey?” I hate to throw Charley under the bus but I need to derail the conversation.
John chuckles and I turn to face him. “What? Did you know?”
He tips his head back and then shakes it side to side. “I’m not surprised is all.”
“What does that mean?” I ask defensively, although we are so far past me having to defend Charley.
“Nothing. It’s just Grey is an attractive man and Charley isn’t exactly hard on the eyes. It was only a matter of time. They’re both single.”
“Doesn’t that bother you? I mean he’s her boss, your friend.”
He brushes a stray hair from my cheek and looks into my eyes.
“Gwen, Charley’s an adult. And besides, it might be good for both of them. Actually Grey is perfect for Charley, now that I think about it. They both avoid relationships like the plague.” He smiles and takes a sip of his wine.
“We’re talking about Charley here, John. This could end badly for Grey. And for Charley’s job.”
“Nah, Grey’s a big boy. Besides it’s none of our business.”
He leans in and kisses me gently on the lips. I close my eyes, savoring this predictable and mundane gesture, something that I suddenly realize I have taken for granted, along with so many other things. And without another thought, I bring my hand up and spread my fingers through his hair at the back of his head, pulling him closer to me. I deepen the kiss, moaning against his mouth as I feel him part his lips, letting me in. We kiss like this for a moment longer, our breath coming in deep, long pulls.
John pulls away first and mutters under his breath, “What in the world?”
My mind tries to recall the last time that I initiated sex – initiated anything for that matter. Surely our sex life is spontaneous enough that a heated kiss alone would not warrant such a comment. But as much as I hate to admit it, sex has become somewhat of a chore for me. Another check mark on the list to complete by day’s end. Dinner, check. Baths, check. Homework, check. Sex with John, check. With this realization plus the pressing matter of my numbered days, I take John’s hand, ditch our wine glasses on the counter, and practically drag him upstairs to our bedroom where I lock the door and strip my clothes off in one fluid motion. The smile on his face, as if this show of hunger on my part is amusing, empowers me and so I undress him as well. When he is standing completely nude in front of me, I step back and take a minute to admire him. He runs nearly every day and it shows; his body is lean and sculpted. He looks nothing like other men his age, most who haven’t aged nearly as well, something that I do notice but probably don’t assure him of often enough. I pull him to me and devour his mouth once again, until I feel his throbbing erection between us and I push him back until he’s sitting on the edge of the bed. I kneel before him and glide my hands up his bare thighs as I close my mouth around his length. A low hiss escapes him and I wonder how long it has been since I have done this for him. Probably years, too long to remember. In the beginning, John and I had sex at least once every day. I had discovered a new side to myself that first night in my dorm room, a pleasure that I had never known existed. After that, I was insatiable, hungry for more. There wasn’t anything that I wouldn’t do for him or with him. I was a willing participant, an eager student. But years and two needy children later, as well as the tiresome daily grind, had eventually tamed that side of me.
I wrap one hand around the base of his shaft, stroking him as I glide my mouth up and down in the same rhythm. He kneads his hands in my hair and applies gentle pressure, encouraging me to take him deeper into the back of my throat. I feel an ache stir in my core, my own need escalating at the sound of John’s pleasure. I take him to the brink before pushing him onto his back on the bed, where I straddle him, lowering myself onto his erection, moaning as he fills me to the brim. I grind up and down, back and forth, finding my rhythm. His hands are on my hips, urging me to ride him faster as our movements become rough and desperate, a far cry from our usual more-controlled encounters. There is nothing controlled about this at all.
Our breath is heavy, his loud grunts only interrupted by the words he speaks to me in a strained voice, “Yes,” and, “Oh, God,” and, “Faster.” I match him breath for breath, my uninhibited moans and whimpers pouring out of me as every fiber of my being is centered in my core, the need building so intensely I can think of nothing but my release. And then I cry out as white light flashes behind my closed lids, my body pulsating again and again. John grips my hips tighter and moves me against him one more time before spilling into me and I collapse on top of him, completely spent and fading fast.
Once he catches his breath, John kisses my temple, the rest of my face is buried in the crook of his neck, where I can taste the salt of his sweaty skin. “I love you,” he whispers into my ear.
All I can manage is a muffled, “Mmhmm.” He rolls me to the side and slowly pulls out of me, before walking to the en suite bathroom to clean up. He returns with a warm washcloth for me, something he always thinks of. I clean myself and then use the restroom, and before thinking better of it, decide to sleep naked next to my husband. Something I haven’t done since college.
John lays on his back and tucks me into his side, moaning his approval of my sleeping attire, or lack of. Within minutes he is snoring softly beside me and I am wide awake, my exhaustion from my orgasm long gone. I roll away from him and decide that I can’t sleep without my pajamas after all, it feels too foreign. After pulling on a pair of lounge pants and a soft cotton tank top, I quietly unlock the bedroom door – just in case the kids need something – and crawl back into bed where I lay awake for hours, thinking about all the moments I want to share with my family before I die.
Chapter 8
Charley
Once Gwen leaves, I busy myself with cleaning up the house. When all 800 square feet of my bungalow is as clean and organized as I have ever seen it, I fill the bath with hot water and lavender sea salt and submerge myself in the scented warmth. I close my eyes and replay the last twenty-four hours in my head. All I can do is repeat a prayer, my new mantra, over and over again in my mind. Please let her be okay. Please let her be okay. I fight back the tears that fill my eyes, unwilling to let them fall, unwilling to believe that there is reason to be sad. Not yet.
Wrapped in my white terrycloth robe, I plop down on the sofa and pull back the curtain covering the large front window that faces the street. I notice that the rain has stopped for the time being and admire the large, not-quite-full moon that casts light on the dark, fall night.
Before my own thoughts eat away at me, I text Grey with a simple Hey. To my surprise he texts back immediately. Just thinking of you, want to come over? His invitation is exactly what I need. To lose myself in him for a few hours, to numb the pain, to take away the helplessness I feel for Gwen. I text back a simple, Yes.
I’ll be waiting. His words send a thrill through me and I quickly get dressed, needing t
o be in his arms as soon as possible.
I park down the street from Grey’s condo, thankful that the rain has stopped. My breath releases into the night in visible white puffs, as if to prove that the air is bone cold. Pulling my jacket tighter around me, I increase my pace toward the entrance to Grey’s building.
He buzzes me in without a moment’s pause and I ride the elevator to the twentieth floor with thoughts only for Grey.
His door is slightly ajar when I arrive and so I knock softly and step inside, closing the door behind me. Grey walks toward me, barefoot in jeans slung low on his hips and a long sleeve black shirt that clings to his arms and chest, showcasing his perfect physique. His casual look, slight stubble covering his jaw and the hunger in his eyes, increases my need for him as I feel a knot form in my chest.
“Hey, how was your—” he begins to say, but I cut him off when I pull his face to mine and plant my cold lips on the warmth of his. He slides my jacket off my shoulders and down my arms and draws my body flush against his. I tangle my fingers in his hair, claiming more of him with my mouth. I can feel his need pressed against me and I frantically work the buttons of his jeans to free him, bringing me closer to what I came here for, closer to what I need in this moment. When his jeans fall to his ankles, Grey wastes no time stepping out of them and peeling my shirt from my body along with his own. I wrap my legs around his waist, grinding against him as his tongue invades my mouth, possessively. I can feel his hands on the skin of my back as he grips me tightly, holding me against him. I need this so much, I think to myself as heat gathers within me, driving away the cold. Our bodies are so close that I feel, rather than hear, the deep sound of his groan as it thunders in his chest.
“Please,” I beg against his lips, needing to feel him inside me. He sets my feet on the floor just long enough to remove my jeans and lace thong, as well as his boxers. My thoughts are screaming, Take it away, please Grey, take it all away. He backs me up slowly with his body – lifting my legs around his waist once again – until I feel the cold, hard surface of the wall against my bare skin. He fills me with one strong thrust, slamming me up against the wall, knocking all the air from my lungs. I feel him everywhere, his breath hot on my cheek, my neck, my chest as his tongue explores my skin. His hands grip my backside tightly as his thrusts continue, punishing in their intensity but I don’t want it any other way. He consumes me and I welcome it. Grey finds his rhythm and I lose myself completely in him until we both reach our climax, and I soar so high that I actually fear the crash that follows, afraid that it will pull me so deep that I may never recover.
Later after Grey has taken me on nearly every surface of his condo and I am completely spent, we lay naked on the plush rug in his living room, basking in the afterglow. My mind is completely numb, the amazing sex bleeding all emotion from me just as I had anticipated.
“How was your night with Gwen?” Grey asks as he traces circles on my stomach with the tip of his finger.
I tense. And just like that my reality comes crashing down all around me, the emotions swirling like a brewing storm cell. And I can’t push them away.
I turn to face Grey. “Can I tell you something without it ever leaving this room?” I ask, wanting to tell him about Gwen, needing to tell somebody, to say it out loud.
“Okay,” he says hesitantly. This isn’t us. We don’t confide in each other. We don’t talk much at all. We just fuck. We give in to this insane attraction, selfishly take what we want. We leave everything else outside the door and focus on the flirty, spontaneous fun. And we do this because it’s all I want from him and I made that clear from the start. But right now, I want to forget my own rules.
“It’s about Gwen. She’s...” I start to say but I can’t finish my sentence for fear that the swirling emotions will surface, exposing too much. Grey’s dark eyes question mine, waiting for my words that never come. I can’t do it; I can’t cross that line with him. And this realization leaves a hollow pit in my stomach, a sense of loneliness that I haven’t felt in a long time.
“What about Gwen?” Grey asks, concern etched in his eyes.
I stare at him for a moment longer and then look away, taking in the angled cuts of his bare chest and say, “Gwen knows about us. I tried to deny it but... well... she can see right through me.” I had to say something.
“Well, I guess it was only a matter of time,” Grey says as he props his head up on his bent arm.
I don’t want to talk about Gwen or us or anything else for that matter. I close my eyes, bringing my lips to his, wanting to chase it all away again. Grey doesn’t hesitate as he wraps his arms around me and pulls me on top of him.
“God, Charley. I could never get enough of you,” he mumbles as I lower myself onto his already hard length and take control, spreading my wings and taking flight. Desperate to get my fix, yet not wanting it to end.
It is nearing midnight when we are done and I stand slowly on shaky legs and make my way to the bathroom. When I emerge a few minutes later, fully dressed, Grey is sitting on the edge of his bed wearing only his boxers.
“Come here,” he says, a quiet demand. I walk to him and he reaches out and pulls me to stand between his legs as he rests his forehead against my chest. I run my fingers through his unruly hair and hold him there as he breathes me in.
“Stay the night with me, Charley.” It is more of a request than a question, but he’s quiet as he waits for my response.
I sigh and he looks up at me. His warm eyes lock with mine, searching for an answer and I nearly lose myself in his gaze. We both know I won’t stay. I lean down and kiss him softly on the mouth but he pulls away. “Please. Don’t make me beg.” His hands are on my ass, holding me tight against him as if he’s afraid to let me go. The tenderness in his eyes fills me with a vague sense of fear.
“I can’t,” I whisper, shaking my head.
“Break your rules, just this once. Stay with me.” His long arms wrap around me tighter as he buries his face in my cleavage.
“I can’t,” I say again as I reach behind me and pull at his hands until he releases me.
“I’ll see you on Monday,” I say as I turn toward the door, leaving him there, alone, his brown eyes filled with defeat.
Walk away Charley, I tell myself. Part of me wants to stay. But most of me knows what will happen if I do. Nearly all of me knows how vulnerable I become if I stay. People always leave. It might as well be me.
I pull the door closed behind me and walk swiftly to the elevator, pushing the down arrow, begging for a quick escape. “Come on,” I say to myself as I hit the button several more times, looking up at the floor numbers as they light up one by one until the elevator dings and the doors slide open. A middle-aged woman is inside wearing navy velour sweat pants and a shiny, red raincoat, holding a small, brown long-haired dog in her arms. She flashes me a fleeting smile as I step inside and I only nod, moving to the back corner of the elevator where I lean against the wall as if I need its support to hold me up. As the doors slide closed, I feel the tension drain from my body and let out a loud breath - one that I didn’t realize I’d been holding.
Chapter 9
Gwen
I open my small suitcase and begin to pack for the weekend, wondering what I should wear when I tell my husband that the cancer is back and maybe for good this time. We’re taking the ferry to San Juan Island for a night away. I booked a room at our favorite bed and breakfast near the harbor. I’m filled with worry when I think of leaving the children with Charley but I know that this weekend is a necessity and there’s no backing out. I have texted Charley numerous times over the past few days to make sure that she’s prepared to stay the night alone with the kids. I normally wouldn’t leave them with her for that long, but I’m not about to add my mother to the mix. I can’t deal with her when I’m barely holding myself together.
The week flew by unexpectedly as I buried myself in my daily routine. The house has never been so clean. It was almost as if I could forget
what was happening, until the still of night when I lay awake and could practically feel the cancer eating away my insides. The painful lump in my armpit, pulsating with life. I called all three oncologists that Charley’s ex recommended, but after speaking to Dr. Sheldan over the phone, I knew he was the only one I wanted to meet. He seemed optimistic and knowledgeable, granting me a small measure of hope; which is more than I can say about the others. My appointment is on Monday morning and, to be honest, I’m more nervous about telling John the news than I am about meeting with Dr. Sheldan.
I pack for cold weather and rain, adding John’s things as well and join John and the kids in the kitchen where the smell of toaster waffles wafts in the air.
“All set?” John asks as he swats my behind playfully with a kitchen towel.
“Yep. I just hope the kids are,” I mumble under my breath while I glance at Olivia and Max sitting at the counter, shoveling bits of waffle in their mouths as if they haven’t eaten in weeks. Their waffles are drowning in maple syrup. No matter how many times I remind John not to let the kids pour their own, it happens anyway and now I find myself mentally calculating how many grams of sugar are pooled on their plates. But it’s not worth mentioning now when my mind is full of so many other concerns.
The Words We Leave Unspoken Page 4
